Crying Over The Sense Of Touch
by Thekuroshitsujilover
Summary: Mello wanted to beat Near whatever it takes. Whammy's hiding away from innocence - secrets. Near is afraid of warm contact but not because of the blonde ; he's protecting someone's fire. Justice and predecessor was never once named L Lawliet. Who will Mello save: the world or . . . . . His rival? MelloXNear hints of abuse and psychological features. Better story, sucky summary.
1. Unusual

**A\n : slory for being inactive! Anyway I published a new story hehe I'm so sorry I'm not updating his master series and charades but it will all be up soon! This will probably one of my least priorities but tell me if you like it! But first, let me tell you warnings:***** PSYCHOLOGICAL, ABUSE , HARASSMENT, DISTURBING ******AND unexpected romance ...rating might change in future chapters! Stay in tune and hope you read my other stories! Idk how I wrote this but yea I just wrote this awhile ago and didn't really bother checking and editing much... :)**

The arial font at its smallest and the numbers beside the names, typed in order and correction but somehow registered dyslexic in his brain. Error - it convinced him simply. The piece of material lost its value and essence, even its significance to him, knowing it can speak not much truth, or rather, the reality that throbbed around his being. The printing appeared faded as well as his firm pride, and he brought up a fist, lunged it just a few inches away from its width, and produced a shaking snarl.

"Why is that goddamn Near in the first place?" It echoed in the hallway but didn't receive an answer. He repeated it, somewhat begging indirectly for satisfaction and reasons, but silence responded back.

"What the _fuck_ is this crap?!" A few heads turned to his direction before scurrying away, even the slightest concern neglected. How - no conclusion, no disclosure, hell, logic can't do. Calculations and sleepless nights guaranteed perfect result - even the geography teacher said so after a pop quiz. The throne can't be stolen from him just by a point - one fucking point higher - and he ends up second best. The blonde tried to delve in deeper thoughts and realizations in ought to calm his raging nerves, but instead, an impulsive act was done by crumpling and shredding the list into pieces.

"This is _preposterous_ " He muttered with venom, panting in heavy breaths and sticky leather wrapped all over his body because of sweat. Irritation, awakening hatred - it's been the same all these years. Since that twit arrived, it's like a big disaster that entered his ideal living : being the number one successor, being the center of all attention, Looks, talent, intelligence - he's the package.

Then he had to be born and found in the middle of the River massacre.

Having these thoughts run back and forth in his mind, he rampaged towards the albino's room like any other report day, grasping a half-bitten bar of chocolate with his right hand that lessens his craving for bloody violence.

"Near!"

"May I help you, Mello?"

The younger twirled a strand of hair with his index finger, attentive of the blonde's presence but still focused with a new set of intermediate puzzle. Mello waltzed in the room in black leather before banging the door closed that shook the empty, thin-walled area. Annoyance surged in Mello's blood as he glared at the child defenselessly playing around dice and paper planes, putting himself in predator stance compared to the white rabbit.

"I don't need your fucking help, you know that. Why the fuck are you first? Again?" Mello scoffed.

"That's a rather idiotic question. Based on some circumstances, it appears that I gained a point higher than you, there's sixty-three percent chance I-"

"You're the moron. I know common sense. I'm asking for the reason why you want the goddamn position so bad!" Near glanced at the temperamental blonde for a second before fully considering the inquiry.

"Why does Mello want to know?"

"I want to know as hell if you deserve it or not." By the time the albino decided to retort, Mello had already pinned him to the nearest surface; mocking him with a pair of burning azure orbs that showed madness.

"... I'm afraid I can't answer that. "

"Why the hell not?"

"You're in my personal space, Mello. You don't have the right to dominate authority -

"Just answer the question! I know better than you that I work hard for this shit and you just derp around in class like you already know everything! I'm trying the hardest but why do I only receive this?!" Near knew he's about to explode and the worst things are about to come, and so he silently listened to his vengeful outbursts until a sudden pressure on both of his shoulder blades caused pain to course around his fragile frame.

"M-Mello...it hurts-

"Why are all the favors centered to you?! " A tear almost prickled the corner of his eyes - until an expression graced the smaller's features that brought his spur of sorrow and anger into a halt. He flinched at the reddening obsidian pupils of his dear rival; turning his tiny world of competition upside down.

"Excuse me? " the statement was slow and in all possibilities - hurt. It bothered Mello, and all his exceptional strength drained away starting from his arms down to his calf; ratiocinations ran low for the first time. "

"What favor are you talking about? Are you stating that I'am _fortunate?_" Both didn't predict the reflex of Near's hand. It automatically smacked away the elder's in a heartbeat more than Mello could imagine - could think he has the capability to do so. The pale boy dragged himself up and away from his attacker, as if to ease the extreme ineptitude of the situation, but to actually compose himself to facade the bothering pain.

"What if I tell you I don't deserve it? What if I spill everything it gives me - so much of it that it's _inhumane_?" Near backed away a few more meters, tardily erasing the nightmare on his face that frightened Mello.

"No one _deserves _my position, Mello. They wouldn't take it. "

'_ if they knew '_

"What are you saying? You're not making sense! Anyone...everyone...is fighting for that bloody position, in the sole promise that L will-

"Give you warmth?"

Near sent accusing daggers, inwardly agreeing with his contradictions. Warmth - does stupidity knows no boundaries?

"... That's not a goal I would drop-dead climb for. " There was a hint of hesitation - of sentimentality - but it's not good enough to treasure.

"Everyone craves for it, Mello. That's what humans are : ignorant, indifferent, despicable, selfish and most of all, thirsty for affection."

"That's something a bible wouldn't say, but I agree. But aren't you the same? "

Mello felt like he clicked an invisible button.

"...I was raised not to be one."

"We were raised together-

"No. Mello, you wouldn't understand." The sweet addict didn't like the sound of it, he clenched his fists while one knee still helplessly sat on the wooden ground, feeling intense heat circulate his system.

"Whammy's is not what you think it is." The blue-eyed genius sensed the privilege of kicking him then and there, right through his flawless face and to his ass, but a certain force kept his feet glued on the ground - stronger than gravity, weighing him from above. His ears hungry for more forbidden and a strong-willed heart that hates being left out in important and serious matters. So he just stayed there, vigorously shaking on his joints and heavy.

Near inevitably looked at the blonde with a ghost of loneliness in those wide eyes, and he felt the last ray of sunlight touch his skin and clouds began to cover its fiery beauty - that was reality. Truth blurred the innocence of how the sun kissed your skin, just like how water can vanquish a dancing flame-

He can't let that happen.

No one's fire is not precious enough.

The atmosphere tensed and it got harder to breath. Gray, that's what everything appeared in his vision : the white walls, the bed, the trees the grass - a clear cut like black and white. But when plunged into each other - can it get any blurrier?

Both felt like running away, but continued to look for answers. Mello surrendered - even his worn out rosary can't solace him any further - and so he stumbled backwards, surely, this time, he'll come again in the same room to demand for answers. But he needed time and to think it through; a chance to solve the puzzle himself.

"It's better if you get out." It's like telepathy, but he needed to comprehend and link the vague pieces of information. He took one more step and banged the oaken door open, and coincidentally, a box abruptly fell caused by the loud vibration. Near instantly picked the contains in a panicked manner, that made Mello turn back, seeing, witnessing, another puzzle piece: Blood stained razors.

He didn't speak a syllable, a comment, a piece of his mind - both his eyes told a whole story. Near tried to get contact, but no, the voices echoed - and he knows Mello could hear it too.

Memories. Secrets.

"This place is not what you call home, Mello."


	2. Fire

The fact that Near's bothered is disturbing. Proved by the manner He twirls his hair as habit and how He places each puzzle piece. The dreamless nights scare him- the moments he wakes up realizing he didn't have a single nightmare. He would usually ponder about events where Mello is present, and even the blonde himself - his imperfections, his mistakes, his impulsiveness and many other emotions that act all at once that Near fails to understand.

The most logical of the two reminisced the incident yesterday noon. He felt like a supreme being is fulfilling its plans of sticking up to the saying " All secrets will be revealed eventually." Near kept the atmosphere neutral, but Mello seemed to be solving the problem with or without Near's permission. The reckless blonde saw the blades he use to ease his burden every night; stained, uncleaned. The brownish, cracked blood dried up on its edges, and Near almost chuckled on Mello's accusing at the same time utterly shocked pair of eyes. The loud sounds that the chocolate-lover produced as he stumbled backwards in surprise, or rather, fear.

In truth, Near could say everything's alright, and it's not what you think. He never runs out of reasons, but deep in his heart - he wanted someone to know. Someone strong, innocent, and fiery - Near loved their fire. To tingle them a little and expose them in the cold, timid air of reality void of oxygen and so their flame slowly dims. Just like Mello. He didn't tell a soul, he wished to keep it to himself. A little secret between him and his predecessor, perhaps? Near was taught to be grateful about every drop of water that bit by bit darkened his light. The early knowledge, the realisms and the sins - and another perspective than everyone thought.

Near laid on his bed, watching the dawn break and the morning sun peek for a new beginning. For Near, another day to dread. After brooding, he thought that maybe Mello is what he's been looking for - a sinner mixed with innocence, violence combined with gentleness - is it possible? Illogical, but that's the motto of the leather-clad man that sent him near the brink of death more than a count noun could describe.

The secrets - they're not supposed to be despised. That's Mello and his past, his frozen heart and the warm Whammy's itself, Near always thought. Nothing is the matter of shutting his mouth about it, but sometimes it's heavy, and desperate measures are taken, indirect signs of help.

He wanted to stop carrying the world on his hands at times.

Near can't comprehend why Mello that himself deserves to be number one.

Does being a hero that special? For normal people, it may be even a dream.

But while they have it, some people just craved for love as their greatest honor.

"Near?" A low, rough voice pulled him out of his bed towards the door in a split second. That manly voice - he couldn't refuse its demands. Through reflexes, the albino hated it. His slender fingers shook and his breathing heaved. Somewhere hidden on the porcelain facade were cracks. Either because of the iced hatred and quiet sighs of self-pity.

"Near?" The voice came a little louder.

"Coming." The man on the opposite side of the door could visualize his thoughts. Near turned the knob, and it was abruptly pushed open. A young male on his twenties stood limply and improperly, wearing his usual outfit of a baggy shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans. The older looked uninterested, bored, and deprived, but he invaded his successor's personal space naturally.

"I guess it takes five minutes and thirty one seconds to have your way here from the nightstand with a distance of a meter." Sarcasm dropped between the lines.

"Indeed."

"How's everything?"

"Usual. Common. Predictable. Dragging... Give me a synonym."

"Are you still a hundred percent sure of your perfect ranking?" The man motioned closer to Near, circling him and stared at him with a flick of emotion in his eyes that could compare to a cat targeting a rat. He appears to be ignoring whatever Near is trying to make in contradictory response.

"Ninety nine."

"Why?" A hoarse voice echoes through his lobe; scarring his mind. He grabbed a lock of Near's soft, white curls and pinned him to the nearest wall. The younger genius couldn't help whimpering at the tolerable pain, giving the raven-haired man what he's bargained for.

"Mello, he knows." A kicking pain flowed through his veins.

"What does he know, exactly?" His voice was dark and hideous, placed shivers along Nears spine and the little 'sheep' gaped at the sensation of cold fingers touching his stomach.

"Something's wrong with Wham- no, _you_." Near emphasized the last syllable. The cold skin travelled until his neckline, and it became rougher than every past second. He winced, and the indifference in both his heart and actions improved the mood the insomniac was trying to build.

"You told him?" The conversation were now mere whispers of threat.

"No. He figured."

"He saw us?"

"He's not entirely stupid."

"Are you forgetting the deal, Near?" After a few moments of excruciation, Near received a hard pull from his head, and he could feel his neck bend lower than possible. He realized he didn't have enough strength to push the man off his feet, since he could still feel the agonizing pain on the lower half of his body - the bruises and the unsealed wounds.

"Your promise, your values? You wouldn't want it out of your line, you hate that." His grip was powerful but the obsidian eyes remain emotionless - broken; similar to Near himself.

"Of course not."

"Who are you trying to protect, Near?" Near's nightmare began rewinding.

"N-no one."

"Is it okay if I relinquish their fire, by any chance?"

"No."

"You're trying your best to be number one, it you want to be a hero?"

"Of prejudice like you?"

"Don't speak." Near felt like falling part again, but it's not possible if he was never whole to begin with. He could feel every dignity and character of himself being taken away forcefully, like someone as weak and fragile as him can take it back. He recalled the nights, the emotions he never thought would be chasing him again, and the monster that crawls under his sheets every night and tears down his walls whenever he feels like it. His strategy:

The sense of touch.

"Do you want to be justice, Near? Like him?" Tears prickled the cream-shaded corners of his eyes, and no one even bothered to knock, make a noise or just simply say -

"Stop!" A man in his teens rushed towards the pair in fury. Near lost his senses but the sight appeared clear and vivid.

A vicious blonde yanked Near away from his captor and trapped him in his warm arms instead. The young man didn't bother interfering in the conversation of the two, but he could hear loud arguments and cold answers. His body numb, and his brain went paralyzed. Just that simple sensation of the fingertips that travelled in every corner of his body can end him frightened. Yet, he craved Mello's hands holding him firmly and without hesitance of keeping him still.

"I can't...why... This is wrong!" The words faded slowly and a deafening silence enveloped Near's hearing.

"No more . . . . Right . . . . No wrong . . . . His fault . . . . Protecting . . . "

Gently, excruciating dizziness welcomed him, and the sentences were like broken lines with nothing to connect them after.

_"You."_ The last word was spat and the man exited the empty, pure white room. Near could feel the tension in Mello's muscles, and a sudden quiet breathing close to his ear.

"Why?" There's something terribly wrong with his voice.

"Why do you sound like that . . .? Head... Can't keep awake. . ." Mello pulled him closer - no, they're cuddling in a simpler term. He rocked Near back and forth, and triggered Near's unconsciousness. He could hear faint murmurs talking about pain, protection and phobia.

"It's gonna be alright. Sleep . . . . Why?" He repeated it like a broken recorder to himself, as if Near wasn't there at all, listening intently.

" What's happening here... To you?

Near doesn't know either.

"That's . . . . . _not L._"

Near felt water droplets on his skin, probably another dream.

** A/N : planning to change the title :) and there goes the thrill and the mysteries in Whammy's**


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